


A Coffin Called Home

by Queerbutstillhere



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), teen titans annual
Genre: Bruce Wayne trying to be a good dad, Canon-Typical Violence, Damian Wayne is just a wounded puppy, Damian Wayne-centric, Damian fights Bruce, Family Drama, Fist Fights, Fix It Fic, Fix-It, Gen, I said fuck dc real hard, I swear to God stop fucking up Damian's redemptions, MAJOR SPOILERS FOR TEEN TITANS ANNUAL 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:33:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26114983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queerbutstillhere/pseuds/Queerbutstillhere
Summary: Damian had been living in turmoil for months, years now. But recently it felt like everything had gone wrong so fast. He'd lost so many people, he'd done so many thingd and his team had turned against him.All he wanted was to fix things! Why couldn't any of them see that?!He expected Bruce to confront him. But he didn't expect the outcome. He didn't expect to be walking away from Robin..A fix it fic with major spoilers for Teen Titans Annual 2!!!! Basically I didn't like canon so I undid that shit.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Comments: 16
Kudos: 91





	A Coffin Called Home

**Author's Note:**

> Right so I went through all the stages of grief today.
> 
> I don't know what stage "write a 3k fix it story" is under but here you go
> 
> Please enjoy me going "fuck DC" and inserting my own headcanons.
> 
> Also yes, I do directly quote the panels some here, but I did actually enjoy some of the dialogue.

Damian coughed through the smoke, running away from the small crowd behind him. He wasn’t sure what had caused the explosion, but he knew that the faster he got away from that situation, the better. As he broke through the smoke, into the clear air of the abandoned building he had escaped into, He had a moment of peace to think.

What was his next step? He knew eventually he’d have to confront Bruce. He knew eventually the detective would find him and there would be consequences for what he’d done. He didn’t necessarily regret it, any of his recent choices, though maybe the prison was taking it one step too far. Brother Blood had to be stopped. Killers only continued to kill. He knew that best of anyone - look at where he was, if you needed proof. Brother Blood would only kill thousands more if allowed to roam free, and simply putting him in a prison like Arkham would do nothing to stop him.

And as for KGBeast? That cretin deserved it as well. He had done something horrible, he had taken Damian’s brother from him. He had taken a brother, a son, a lover. He had taken that from all of them, and he had been allowed to walk free. And Damian wanted his blood all over his hands. He  _ deserved  _ it for what he did to Dick.

Damian took a few deep breaths, calming his heart rate, focusing on the environment around him. He was angry. He was so often angry these days. All he wanted was to fix things! To make things better for  _ everyone _ , why couldn’t the Titans just see that!? Why couldn’t they just see that Batman’s way wasn’t working?

Then he heard it. It was nothing more than the soft sound of armor squeaking, or perhaps a shoe scuffing on the floor. But it alerted him easily enough. He looked around, quieting his breathing almost completely.

“Show yourself!” he shouted into the empty air. His body was aching from the day’s fighting, but he wasn’t done yet. “It’s just the two of us!”

He sensed the attack more than he saw it, grabbing onto the railing of a nearby set of stairs and flipping himself out of the way. He wasn’t very surprised to turn and find Deathstroke, blade flashing as he lunged after Damian.

“I have to tell you, this job? Killing the Teen Titans? I would have done it for  _ free _ ,” Slade snarled as he lunged after Damian.

Damian ducked under the overcut and found himself mourning the loss of his katana. It would have been incredibly helpful for a fight against Deathstroke.

“But I know how this little team works,” Slade was saying, as he followed after Damian. “No matter how many Titans go down, they just keep popping up. To kill the Titans, you go right to the source. You kill Robin.”

Damian had been blindsided, and the kick in his side caused him to yelp, grabbing at his ribs as he went flying to the side. He landed on top of a set of stairs, groaning. Slade grinned as he stepped closer. Damian’s anger flared up, he refused to be killed by Slade Wilson of all people.

“Red Arrow thought she killed you,” Damian groaned out, pushing himself up to his feet. “But I will make sure, this time, that you  _ stay _ dead!”

He lunged out with the speed only a Bat could have, flipping into a roundhouse kick and sending Slade flying out of the window behind him. The glass shattered easily, the frame weak from age. He landed on his ass on a car below them, and Damian didn’t hesitate to jump after him. Slade talked easily as they exchanged blows, fists and legs moving fast enough that Damian was working on instinct more than sight.

“You were always my favorite Robin, more like me then the Bat. And that makes you  _ interesting _ . But all that time being a good little boy for your dad has made you weak.”

Damian was gasping for air, winded, blood streaming from his nose and mouth, having been knocked to the ground by a shoulder slam. Slade drew his second sword, standing over Damian, weapon drawn.

“You had a good run kid, but we both know how it always ends for Robins.”

The blow surprised them both. Suddenly Damian had been about to die, Slade’s weapon seconds away from impacting his chest, and then Slade was gone, on the ground beside Damian, Crush holding the front of his armor.

“How bout round two, Deathstroke?”

Damian sighed in relief. It was more instinctual then logical. His team had come to save him, of course they had. He let his head thunk back against the ground, taking a few seconds to regain his breath before he focused on the fight, getting back up. The others were dueling with Slade and doing a sloppy job of it. How had they ever made it this far in life?

“Leave us!” Damian shouted at Kid Flash. “This is not a fight for the weak!”

Crush muttered something Damian didn’t catch, but it was Red Arrow who drew his attention.

“We’re not here to help you, Robin. We’re here to take you  _ both _ in.”

“Nobody dies today,” Wally added.

Damian ignored them both, turning and deflecting a blow from Slade, wishing he had his Katana. The fight was fast paced and blinding. He spent half of it fighting Slade, and half of it fighting his team- his old team.

“There’s no such thing as good,” Slade was saying as he pummeled Crush, then immediately switched to pursue Red Arrow. “There’s just alive or dead.”

Damian picked himself up off the ground where he had fallen after a good blow from Kid Flash. Slade’s sword was lying right next to him. It was too perfect, almost poetic. He picked up the blade, feeling it’s weight in his hands, taking deep breaths. Despite what some people believe, it always took a few seconds to prepare himself for this. To prepare himself for a kill.   


“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, loudly enough to be heard by everyone.

And the world faded to gray as he lunged, slicing Slade across the back. Not even the assassin's armor was thick enough to protect from the wicked blade that attacked him. Slade yelped in pain, falling forwards. Damian didn’t stop.

“We put you away and it ends nothing!” A slash across his torso. “You’ll break free and kill…”

A slash across his forearm. “Again.”

And one down his front. “And again!”

“That ends now!”

Slade was down on the ground, and Damian lunged forwards, mimicking Slade’s earlier posture, standing over him, huge sword swinging up over his head with the force of a grown man’s swing. The interception was nothing Damian could have predicted. He had never even seen Emiko move, but suddenly she was in front of Slade, holding her bow up to block the blow.

The wood shattered instantly.   


Damian felt slight horror rip through his body at Emiko’s scream, the girl instantly falling and clutching at her shoulder. Kid Flash was there, scooping her up before she hit the floor. Damian stepped back, shocked. It was so easy to mask the turmoil in his mind with a scoff and an annoyed face.. For as much as he pretended otherwise, he had cared about his team, about Emiko. That’s why he worked so hard to get them to side with him. Hurting Emiko that badly wasn’t settling right in his stomach. That injury could be career ending.

“Robin."

Damian stopped walking, the sound of a grapple and the snapping of the leathery like fabric that his father’s cape was made of catching his attention just as much as the codename had. He turned back to face the new arrival, watching Batman land a few feet away.

“I don’t know what brought you to this, but it has to stop,” Bruce said, sounding stern and disappointed.

Damian rarely pleased him. He was used to this tone.

“This isn’t you,” Bruce said, walking closer, eyeing Damian warily.

“How do you know, Father?”

Damian raised Slade’s sword in front of him in defense.

“Put the sword down. Let me help, before you go too far."

Bruce was standing in front of him, posture open, relaxed, trusting. His arms were held open, ready to hug him. And Damian just froze, the sword clattering from his hands to the ground.

For a moment, a memory slid over real life, flashing before his eyes. A memory of Alfred, waiting for him to come home, standing with that exact posture, waiting to give him a hug, to comfort him.   


A soft sob ripped from Damian’s throat, just as quickly followed by a roar of anger. He moved without thinking, faster than Bruce expected, landing a solid right hook to Bruce’s jaw. Bruce stumbled backwards and Damian followed, rage burning hotly through his body. How  _ dare _ Bruce? He hadn’t been there for him when Dick had been shot, he hadn’t been there for him when Jon had left, and he  _ definitely _ hadn’t been even  _ slightly _ there when Alfred had been shot.

Not that Damian deserved comfort over Alfred. It was his fault, after all.

But if Bruce thought he could come after Damian now, that he could be there for Damian now, after months,  _ years _ really, of ignoring the boy, he was  _ wrong _ .

Bruce kept retreating, blocking a good portion of Damian’s strikes, but Damian was smaller and faster, he couldn’t hope to get every single one, and he didn’t, nearly every other blow landing somewhere on Bruce’s torso or face.

“Robin, please,” Bruce implored as he defended himself. “It’s time to come home. It’s time to-”

“Home!?” Damian snapped, his anger only getting hotter, it was almost blinding now. “What home!? Wayne Manor is a coffin! A failure!”

It was true, he had never felt truly at  _ home  _ there. It had never been safety for him. No, Alfred had been home. Alfred had been that safety that a home should provide, Dick had been too, even Jon. Once he had thought Bruce would be home like they were. He was foolish. He had no home now. Not when everyone who could make a place feel like  _ home _ had been taken from him.

“Rob-”

“There is nothing in that tomb that will change my mind, detective!” Damian yelled as he ran after Bruce, who had retreated a few feet. “And if you opened your eyes you would see there’s nothing left for you there either! I do not need another one of your lectures in those empty halls!”

Damian was up close now, landing blow after blow. And Bruce was just letting him, deflecting any major ones, but that was about it.

“No! It is time you were lectured by me! I will never stop!”

Damian wasn’t even thinking anymore, words spewing out of his mouth just as fast as his fists were flying.   


“I am the logical conclusion to the path you set yourself on years ago! You send criminals to these jails and asylums and what happens!? The same results! Why can’t you see that!?”

Dick, Alfred, Jason, Barbara, Duke, even Tim. Countless people directly involved in their lives who had their lives permanently changed, or had even been killed, all because Bruce was too weak to do what needed to be done. All because Bruce refused to actually deal with criminals.

The anger was suffocating now, mixing with something Damian couldn’t pinpoint, but an emotion just as strong and consuming as his anger. He practically screamed the next words.

“You aren’t fighting back!  _ Why won’t you fight me!?” _

Bruce was on his knees in front of Damian, almost smiling, looking up at him. Blood was streaming from his nose, filling his mouth, his lips already swelling from the several hits. There were cuts on his face from where Damian’s gloves had impacted. But there he was, smiling sadly, completely vulnerable, hands spread open, the great bat brought to his knees by a mere child.

“Because I love you, Damian. And you’re right, I have failed. I’ve failed you.” Bruce’s voice was soft, regretful, worried.

Something inside of Damian cracked.

“I’ve not been the man I should- no, I’ve not been the father I should’ve. Not for you, not for your brothers, not for Cass. I’ve failed you all, and nothing I say could ever make up for that.”

Bruce slowly pushed himself up to his feet, reaching up with the edge of his cape and wiping blood off his face. Then he did something Damian never expected. He hooked his thumbs under his cowl and pushed it back, off his face. Damian watched as he stepped forwards carefully, like he was approaching a wound animal.   


Damian was a wound animal, wasn’t he? He was damaged and hurting.

“I’m sorry, Damian. I’ve wronged you in so many ways, I can never undo that or apologize enough for it, and I’m sorry for that too. I should have been there for you, since the beginning, not just when you did something wrong. I should have been there every day, I should have supported you and comforted you. I should have encouraged you even more than I disciplined you. I shouldn’t have left Alfred and Dick to raise you. That wasn’t their job, I’m your father, I should have acted like it.”

Damian’s chest was getting tight, and he didn’t understand why. Why were tears forming in his father’s eyes? Why was his own throat swelling shut?

“Damian.” Bruce sunk to his knees again, grabbing his son’s hands. Damian let him. “I’m sorry.”

“Father I can’t go back there,” Damian whispered. “I can’t stay in that empty mansion alone.”

“I know,” Bruce says softly, squeezing his hands. “I won’t leave you alone.”

“No, I can’t go back!” Damian pulled his hands away, stepping back.

“Damian, please-”

Damian shook his head, looking down. Then he saw it. And he knew what he had to do.

He grabbed the symbol on his chest and ripped off the badge. A soft gasp left Bruce.

“We’ll never. . . “ Damian stopped, shoving down those words he had wanted to say. “You’ll never truly see me as long as I’m still under your shadow. I cannot be Robin any longer, father.”

There was this ache in his chest. He didn’t understand it. He was still so angry, he hurt from all the anger stored in his body, it consumed him and pulled him in every direction and he didn’t know what to do with it. But at the same time, there was this feeling gnawing at him from the inside out. This deep anguish that filled and consumed him, warring with the anger, filling and taking over any gaps that were left in him. He hurt so much, he had so much trauma and damage and wounds that cut deep into his soul. He was broken, and he could never be fixed.

No matter who tried, no one could fix him. He always came back to where he had started. He always came back to death and blood.

He always would, as long as he tried to live the life of a hero. He would always be pulled away into the darkness, if he kept trying to bath himself in the light. It was his never ending story, the loop he was stuck on.  


“Robin,” Bruce whispered softly, reaching out for his son. Damian placed the badge in his hand instead.

“No, I  _ was _ Robin. . . . And now? Now I am finally free.”

Bruce just stared at him, glancing down at his badge.

“I did not earn that badge, father. I took it. There is one that still deserves it. Someone that didn’t deserve to have it stolen from him. Give it back to him, he will be your Robin.”

Damian looked down at his gloves, then at the hole in his uniform. A physical hole in his chest that resembled the unseen one that threatened to overtake and kill him everyday.   


“What are you going to do?”

“I am unsure,” Damian was speaking softly. For once in his life, he had no plans. This was not planned, he wasn’t sure why he was doing this. “But whatever it is, it won’t include playing this game of good or evil anymore.”

He was tired. He was still angry. He was angry at his father, at Bane, at KGBeast, at the Teen Titans, at Deathstroke. But he was also angry at himself, at his mother, at Ra’s. He was just angry, and he didn’t know what to do with that anger, and oh was he tired.   


Did he agree with how his father handled things? Absolutely not. Did he still believe there was a better way? Yes. But it was becoming increasingly clear that he was going to be stopped, no matter what he tried. And he was just too tired to keep fighting. He needed to figure something out, to figure himself out. And he was not going to scorn Dick’s legacy any further by doing that under Robin’s title.

“I need time. To figure things out.”

“Are you coming back home?”

“No. Not yet.”

Bruce was silent, glancing behind him momentarily, at the Teen Titans.   


“Where then?”

Damian opened his mouth, but no response came. Where would he go? Where  _ could _ he go? He had made enemies out of almost every one of his friends. He took a breath, then an answer popped into his head.

“Maya.”

Bruce’s mouth pressed into a thin line, but he nodded.   


“I’m here for you, Damian, when you need me, just call and I’ll come, but please. Don’t stay away forever.”

Bruce reached out and gently touched Damian’s bruised cheek with his gloved hand. Damian just looked at his father, seeing the wetness in his eyes. He cleared his throat and looked away, effectively pulling his head away from Bruce’s hand.

“Goodbye, father.”

He turned and walked away, not saying anything to the Teen Titan’s. There wasn’t anything to say to them, or rather, there was nothing he  _ could _ say to them to fix what had been done. He had created a mess, and one day he would own up for that in one way or another, but not today. He had too much to think about it. He had done too much damage for one day.

He left, feeling hollow and broken, but still angry. Angry, but at the same time, even more confused. He felt so lost.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! Thanks for reading! I hope you liked me saying Fuck DC
> 
> Check me out on Tumblr @queerbutstillhere and @queerbutstillhere-writes !!!!!


End file.
